In Which a Unova Heroine Seeks More
by TimeyWimeyNoises
Summary: White has expressive aphasia. She laments this, but something garners more of her attention. [Ferriswheelshipping. Oneshot. Drabble.]


These were Halcyon days. The calm waters of a beachside, the tapestry of a sky knowing clarity, the festivities of home - how else could one describe the doldrums of post-championship? Maybe this was the struggle that every prodigal Pokémon trainer faced after destroying his region's League ... or perhaps Whitlea Dis wasn't doing this correctly.

The altitude at which she stood was marvelous. So high above Route 10 she was - overseeing all of the Amoonguss, the Rufflett, the infrequently occurring Audino, as if she really was reigning some of the best of Unova. Was this really the life she'd forsaken the old one of comfort and convalescence for? Just the brush of yellowness against her face with every whip of the wind? Just the coarse sensation of human-crafted rock beneath her feet? No, it wasn't. There was always camaraderie. There were always her Pokémon. They were her companions in arms, her eternal partners of brilliant conquest ... with whom she'd shared so much blood, tears, and work.

Her bloodied, tired hands had cast their pokéballs forth so many times, but there could be no rest. Sustaining your position atop the world was everything compared to the simple task of getting there. One had to be conscientious. Purely kind. Purely assertive. Completely strong. Unlike Alder, she hadn't been appointed as champion. She had earned it ... and it'd been two or three years since that day.

When one didn't have the spoken word's luxury, then she couldn't commit to other people the story of her journeys throughout these lands. Her mother couldn't see what she had. So much turmoil ... so much death ... so many changes in plans and dreams ... so much actualization and checks from reality. Philosophy churned in White like a stew that could never finish cooking, and the barrier that separated her from speaking confounded so much. Nothing could come of these experiences unless she could spread it to others. It hurt her heart a little.

The tan geology of Victory Road was emblazoned permanently in her mind. Before N's Castle and long after the ferris-wheel ride in Nimbasa City, Victory Road had left such a profound effect on her. Such a loud statement it made. Training there gave her Pokémon constitution like she'd never before seen exhibited in them. Was it a blessing from those indigenous species within? Was it a warning that she must stand her own ground? Was it a premonition that there was only ruin ahead? That her heart should be torn in two?

Well, certainly. No amount of defense-training on this mountain, abandoned by Arceus Itself, could have prepared her for what was to come. ... N was a weight that would forever be suspended over her like a blackened, dismal cloud ... She needed to find him. It had been so long. If there was anyone she wanted to behold and anyone who deserved happiness ... If there was anyone who deserved redemption, it was N.

From a shadow augmented by night, there beckoned to her a familiar noise. White's muteness could never equate to deafness; her attention was gotten immediately. Her wind-weary, azure eyes scrambled to see what was calling her, but her body moved in that direction before reason stopped her.

Z-o-r-o-a-r-k. She ran. Musculature in her legs worked and wrestled against itself, and this illusionary Pokémon withdrew. Her skin met blue cold as she entered a passageway of Victory Road she'd never witnessed before - and she had searched this thing top to bottom with a Dowsing Machine, so there was no way she could have missed it the first time - and the architecture was starting to become distinctly different from the League-designed, climbing dungeon ...

And this architecture was palatial. Plasmically palatial.

Hope was wrested from her soul, and adrenalin was released into her suddenly active bloodstream. Zoroark was fast. White aimed to be faster. There was only one reason why this fox would lead her here, past all actual civilization and cartographic locations.

That reason now stood dozens of meters away, in a long, dastardly runway where aspirations had once been crushed, truths were falsified, and new beginnings commenced. N Harmonia was a majestic being in front of her, his hat of black and white absent.

How fitting. Truth and ideals were always set in a bed with grey sheets, after all.


End file.
